The Sound Of Music
by Your Regular Belle
Summary: When 13 year old Saskia van Deman finds herself trapped in the Tomb of Akhmenrah afterhours, she sings to herself to quell her fear. 10 years later, now a big name in the Gothic/metal music scene, she has nearly forgotten the event. But Ahkmenrah hasn't.
1. Track One: The Fear

**So here it is: My newest story. Full summary is as follows.**

_**When thirteen-year-old Saskia van Deman finds herself trapped in King Ahkmenrah's Tomb afterhours, she sings to herself to quell her fear. Ten years down the line, having made a name for herself in the Gothic/Alternative music scene, she has all but forgotten the event, putting those lingering memories of a shaking sarcophagus down to childish fantasies. But when the family Tomb of the King himself is threatened with displacement in favour of a potential fortune-grabbing construction scheme, Saskia finds herself fighting for it's preservation, and ends up face to face with the Pharaoh who could never forget her in the first place, and the brother who would like him out of the way. **_

**Obviously I have changed things around a little bit: Ahkmenrah is not in New York, much less America. He is back in his rightful tomb in Egypt, where he is on tour. In fact, the time sequence is completely different. Imagine the first movie never happened – Ahk is in Egypt but will transfer back to New York where Larry has been working as the night guard with no hitches (because the tablet is not there.) Larry would not have seen the museum come to life before. However, the second film will (sort of) take place, but with changes. So Ahk will be in New York for a short while. Capice?**

**And now: IMPORTANT**

**I am not a songwriter, so the songs Saskia sings throughout this story will not be my own, much less hers, but you will have to pretend they are. I will have to borrow songs already made known by bands such as Within Temptation, Therion, Evanescence etcetera. I am sorry, but I can't write songs, and there NEED to be songs here. Some lyrics you see I will have edited to make them at least partially original, but you have been warned.**

**I do not own Night at The Museum, Egypt, or the song that Saskia will sing. I do own Saskia, however. And her guitar.**

**The Sound Of Music **

.:Track One: The Fear:.

"_(It's the fear)_

_Fear of the dark,_

_It's growing inside of me,_

_That one day will come to life._

_(Have to find)_

_Find the light,_

_There is no escaping,  
Because my place is of horror and doom."_

'_The Fear', by Saskia van Deman – vocalist of 'Origin', in their studio album 'Even In Death'_

Darkness.

That was all I could perceive. Darkness, and the cold.

Imagine that - Cold in Egypt. One of the sunniest countries I have ever visited. It almost seemed impossible, but the Goosebumps raised over my arms and neck proved otherwise.

Loneliness.

Crippling loneliness, as I realised I could hear nothing but my own rapid breathing, and the faint ticks of night dwelling insects no longer having to hide under the sand from the scorching Middle Eastern sun.

Fear.

Unlike anything I had ever known, as I failed to pull any recollection of where I was, and why I was there. Alone, in the dark. Two of my greatest terrors pulled into one.

I pushed myself slowly upwards from where I had been lying, sprawled and unconscious on the dusty stone floor. A dull and throbbing ache at the back of my head had me searching through my hair with my hands, and I almost fainted back at the discovery of blood, or some other wet substance, coating my scalp. Crusting through my reddish hair. I stretched an arm outwards in search of some sort of hold, and grazed it gently on rough and jagged stone, before lacing my fingers into a crack, and pulling myself onto my feet. I cried out as a sudden stabbing pain shot through my ankle and radiated up to my kneecaps, sending bright spots dancing under my eyelids. Biting it back to a whimper, I shifted all of my weight onto the wall, and slowly lifted my injured leg, only to catch my knee on another surface adjacent to me. I paused, and tried to get my bearings, feeling further with my hands.

I was in some sort of tunnel, I eventually decided, not quite the width of my arm span. I couldn't see how long it stretched on for, but by the extent to which my cries had been echoed back to me, I could guess at a reasonable distance. I couldn't feel a roof touching my head, not even on my toes, and I couldn't work out just how far away it was with my complete inability to see a thing. I reached an arm slowly upwards, and my fingertips brushed against yet more rough stone, the same feel as the walls either side of me.

_Where was I?_

I wanted to get out of there – the darkness was oppressing, and I couldn't shake the premonition that the walls were going to grind closed and crush me into nothing. My ankle was proving a problem though, and I was shocked to realise I couldn't even move it when I tried. It dangled uselessly and painfully at the end of my calf like a limp balloon. I felt a wave of panic, followed by hysteria, and finally by tears.

I must have stood like that for ten minutes of so, balanced awkwardly on one leg with my arms stretched out, the various cuts and grazes puckering my skin stinging as I started to focus on them more. I kept asking myself the same questions, racking my brain for information; _Where was I? What the hell had happened? What was I going to do? _

Try as I might, I couldn't pull up any answers. I began to fear for the seriousness of the wound on my skull.

There was nothing to gain from staying where I was, I eventually decided, experimenting by hopping forwards on my good leg, using the wall as my brace. I felt my foot collide with something solid, kicking it forwards, and I froze – my heart in my mouth. I envisioned some sort of animal, for one reason or another. Maybe a snake, or a small mammal? After a few more moments of silence, I felt out tentatively with my leg, before brushing up against it again. I took comfort in the fact that it was apparently inanimate, contrary to my previous beliefs. Bending down and leaning forwards, I grasped at it and felt fabric against my fingertips, before dragging it forwards and up into my arms.

My guitar case, I realised with a jolt, feeling the familiar curves and velvet of the casing. What on earth was that doing here? I had a sudden recollection; pushing through a crowd with it banging on my hips.

Spooked, I went onwards, my pace increasing as I got used to the rhythm. _Brace and shuffle. Brace and shuffle. Brace and shuffle. _I went on like that for an unfathomable amount of time.

Suddenly, just as I was leaning forward to brace, I heard a muffled thump through the walls. I paused, ears strained, until I heard it again.

_Thump. Thump. THUMP. _

It then stopped, before being replaced by the sound of rattling and crashing, strong enough for it to be able to produce vibrations that I could feel through the wall. I paused, and began to tremble. I wasn't surprised to feel a tear run down my cheek. I had never been so afraid.

Nevertheless, I went onwards.

As I did, I tried to recollect my day. I knew I was in Egypt – on holiday, with my family. Where were they? I could remember our trip to the pyramids in Giza a few days before, I was relieved to realise, as well as a train journey South, but beyond that…

Tombs. It came to me in a flash. An image of crowds, moving by tombs. _The Valley of the Kings! _

My sudden relief at remembering memories lost was short lived, as I re-evaluated my situation. Was I in a _tomb? _

I bloody well hoped not.

It seemed likely, though, as much as I hated the thought. The rough walls, enclosed spaces and darkness. And there was the smell: the stale stench of stagnant air that I hadn't really noticed until then.

_A tomb. _

What had I gotten myself into?

I shuffled forwards again, a new desperation burning. I noticed the crashes and thumps only got louder as I moved onwards, and considered turning back, but I had already gotten so far… and maybe the sound was of people moving about? A search party? How long had I been here? It seemed a bit of a fantastical thought, but what else did I have to go on? My hopes began to perk up as I realised the area around me was getting a touch lighter – I could see my hand in front of my nose, and increased my speed further, my guitar case bouncing uncomfortably on my back, and my breath coming in short and sharp bursts.

It was definitely getting lighter now – I could make out the texture of the walls, and there was a golden glow coming from up ahead. Maybe it was the end of the tunnel?

It was – I soon discovered, and my relief almost had my legs giving out underneath me. I was finally going to get out of that tunnel. I pushed onwards, no longer caring for the pain in my ankle, or the increasing volume of the clattering – I had become more and more certain that it was a party waiting for me in the light, even playing out the meeting in my head. Would I throw myself into their arms in relief, or would exhaustion overtake me. I felt it pulling on my muscles even as I thought it.

I needn't have bothered with the imagining or the relief, for when I finally pulled myself into the golden glow of the new room, it wasn't a search party sat waiting for me at all.

No, it was a sarcophagus.

A _shaking _sarcophagus.

My first instinct was to scream, then run, then vomit uncontrollably and collapse. I did none of those. The breath was hitched in my throat, my muscles paralyzed and my stomach non-functional as a thousand million possibilities ran through my head.

A mummy. Like from the movies. Ready to strip my flesh or turn me into it's minion.

No, a _vampire_, thirsty for young blood.

Or maybe a demon? Trapped down in a tomb by an ancient curse, to be broken only by the entrance of a thirteen year old girl set to fulfil a prophecy.

It was only after my heart starting beating once more, and the air moved more freely in my lungs, when I began to think a bit more rationally. Had somebody gotten themselves _trapped in a sarcophagus? _Well some people were destined to fail.

"Hello?" I called out shakily, my voice still stronger than I had expected it to be. The pounding and shaking of the golden gilded coffin instantly ceased, before resuming with more vigour. So they had registered my voice.

There _was _someone trapped in there!

"Oh my God, hang on!" I shouted over the noise, hopping shakily over to where the sarcophagus was rested on a large stone dais. I reached forward to pull at what looked like a chain wrapped around it's exterior, but was forced to pull back in risk of having my hand broken against the jumping gold.

"Stay still!" I pleaded, wobbling sharply on my one leg. I instinctively placed my other foot on the ground to keep my balance, and cried out in agony as my ankle screamed its protest. My pain quickly turned to anger and I reached out to thump the coffin sharply with my fist, shouting out in demand.

"_Stay still!" _

To my surprise, it worked.

"That's better. I can work on getting you out now, alright?" I tried to add reassuringly, calming myself down. I pulled on the chain again – following the links for some sort of release, but only found a really big and really strong looking padlock.

_Ah. _

"Um, I have a problem." I tried to explain, leaning closer to the sarcophagus. "There's a lock on this thing, and I can't undo it. You're stuck, but don't worry! I'm lost too and I think a search party might come so-"

I didn't even have time to finish my sentence when the sarcophagus jumped with enough vigour to catch me in the face and send me flying backwards. I sprawled back on the hard and rough floor, my various wounds screeching in protest as they rubbed across the dust, an new pain stabbing at my lip. I reached up a hand to touch it, and discovered yet more blood.

"You _idiot!" _I screamed at the sarcophagus, new tears forming in my eyes. "I was just trying to help you! I told you I couldn't get you out! A search party will come, so stop panicking!"

My shouts seemed to have some effect, as the shaking instantly stopped, and a heavy silence took its place. I sniffed and wiped my lip on my sleeve, wincing where the skin stuck to the fabric and pulled away in flakes. My ankle still throbbed, and my head still ached, but at least it was light, and I had some form of company. Even if it was a possible demon.

But why was it light? I took a moment to consider my surroundings, and found the source to be what looked like a glowing pane of gold mounted on the walls behind a thick barrier of glass. I stared at it for a few moments, transfixed, before my gaze wondered to the further adjournment of the tomb. There were all the traditional paintings, of course, in rich colours of red, blue, gold and green, interrupted only by sections where the inks had either faded or chipped away. Aside from the sarcophagus, there was no further physical ornamentation, and I guessed it had all either been looted or taken away by curious scientists. I leaned back and closed my eyes, steadying my breathing. The silence lingered on.

"I'm sorry," I called out tentatively after a moment, propping myself up on an arm. "I shouldn't have shouted, but you really hurt me you know."

Silence.

"Can you understand me?" I called then, and the coffin rattled slightly.

"How about you thump twice or something if you can understand me," I offered, and after a few seconds there came two very discreet bangs.

"Good!"

The fact that whoever was in there understood English comforted me somewhat, and certainly dispelled any last suspicions of supernatural forces waiting to prey on my sweet virgin flesh. I ran a hand through my copper hair, catching my fingers where it had been bundled into loose plaits at some point, before becoming preoccupied into a jaw-cracking yawn. A sudden gust of wind had me jumping back in terror – didn't that always happen in the movies? – before I forced myself to calm. There was probably a crack somewhere, or a break into the outside. Technically, I could go and search for it and walk out of this place free, but my muscles didn't seem to want to let me, and there was the question of ankle. Besides, it would be heartless to leave whoever it was in the sarcophagus on their own. They were probably as frightened as I was – there did seem to be something eerie about this place. Maybe they were even locked in with a mummy? I shuddered at the thought.

I caught sight of my guitar case lying next to me in the dust, and had a sudden longing to feel the strings under my fingertips, letting the notes bring a little bit more life into this hole.

"Hey," I started up at the coffin again, pulling the instrument towards me. "We might be here a while, you know. I don't know where my parents are, and I'm not really in a position to run and get help…" I paused. "Should I play a little music to pass the time? I know guitar… and can sing, I think. Two thumps for yes and one for no."

A silence. Then two thumps.

"Thank you." I smiled, before pulling my guitar out of its case and cradling it tenderly. My guitar was my baby, along with my violin, my piano, and my flute. I had taken classical instrumental lessons before I could remember, and music meant the world to me. I had even written one or two songs of my own, although my sister said I'd never get anywhere with them. They were too gloomy and dark, she'd told me. I needed to write something more modern and 'pop' like. I hated pop though. Who wanted to listen to a load of electronic auto-tuned rubbish when you could have the real deal?

I absently began to strum a few chords, before starting the opening of one of my favourite songs.

"This is a personal favourite of mine," I explained hesitantly, feeling a little self conscious playing in front of another. "It's called Ice Queen, by Within Temptation? Have you heard of them? They're really good! The actual song is of Symphonic Metal in genre, but I've done my own acoustic version. Want to hear?"

Two thumps.

"Alright then! I warn you, I'm not a professionally trained singer or anything."

I re-played the opening chords, fumbling slightly as I tried to make my way around the contrasting highs and lows of the song, my shivering in the cold making it only harder. I soon got into it a bit more, however, and I cleared my throat as I prepared to sing.

"_When leaves have fallen and skies turned to grey, _

_The night keeps on closing in on the day. _

_A nightingale sings his song of farewell, _

_You better hide from her freezing hell…"_

My voice was shaky and uncertain to start with, as I fought to push down my nervousness. Singing in front of someone new was always tricky, even if they were stupid enough to get themselves locked in a sarcophagus. The somewhat traumatising events of the last hour or so probably hadn't helped either, along with my unease and lingering terror.

"_On cold wings, she's coming!_

_You better, keep moving!_

_For warmth, you're longing_

_Any day._

_Come on, just feel it!_

_Don't you, see it?_

_You'd better believe..."_

My voice grew stronger with the chorus, although it still wasn't perfect. I hadn't ever had voice training, but I was hoping to some day. I wanted to be in a band, and be like Sharon Den Adel – one of my idols and the writer of the song. She was also the vocalist of one of the best bands of all time. Within Temptation, they were called.

"_When she embraces your heart turns to stone, _

_She comes at night when you're all alone. _

_And when she whispers your blood shall run cold, _

_You'd better hide before she finds you!" _

I jumped up an octave as I reached the turning point in the song, my hands slipping up on the strings, before re-finding themselves.

"_Whenever she is raging, she takes a life away. _

"_Haven't you seen…?_

_Haven't you seen, _

_The ruins of her world?"_

"_And whenever she is raging, she takes a life away. _

"_Haven't you seen? _

"_Haven't you seen,_

_The ruins of our world!"_

Now was when I did the little guitar solo, humming the tune of the lyrics over the top of it. I was smiling slightly, as I did it, not quite so afraid as I had been before. I didn't mean to sound all deep or special, or any of that, but music soothed me.

"_She covers the earth with a breathtaking cloak._

_The sun awakes and melts it away._

_The world now opens its eyes and sees,_

_The dawning of a new day!"_

"_On cold wings, she's coming. _

_You better, keep moving._

_For warmth, you'll be longing,_

_Any day._

_Come on, you feel it!_

_Don't you, see it? _

_You'd better believe!" _

"_Whenever she is raging, she takes a life away!_

_Haven't you seen?_

_Haven't you seen,_

_The ruins of her world!"_

"_Whenever she is raging, she takes a life away._

_Haven't you seen?_

_Haven't you seen,_

_The ruins of our world…?" _

I let my voice trail off slowly, taking advantage of the echoes, and dropped my hands from the strings. I found myself suddenly desperately tired : too tired for another song, and too tired to get up and look for an exit. The back of my head was buzzing, and I worried momentarily if I was suffering from the after-effects of concussion, but before I could do a whole lot about it, I had put my head down and drifted off.

**Ice Queen is actually a very insane song, and despite it's branding it is more Orchestral and Symphonic than Gothic or metal like. There's definitely no screaming, and the singer has a very beautiful voice. Give it a listen. It's Ice Queen by Within Temptation. The Black Symphony version is much better than the studio recording. I'll put a link in my profile, or just type in 'Within Temptation Ice Queen Black Symphony' into YouTube. (I'm not trying to shove this band down your throat or anything .) **

**What did you guys think? Constructive criticism my good people. **

**I know you don't get the best introduction to Saskia and her personality/appearance etc, but this chapter is more of a prologue to the story. The next chapter is about ten years later. **

**Rage x**


	2. Track Two: Familiar

**Warning for language and mild sex reference.**

**

* * *

**

.:Familiar:.

"_I know who you are, _

_but your name I can't recall._

_Searching near and far,_

_But my mind hits a blank wall._

_Only one memory shines as bright as any star,_

_Once upon a time you were my familiar."_

'_Familiar,' by Saskia van Deman – vocalist of 'Origin' in their studio album, 'Even in Death.'_

_

* * *

_

"Saskia darling, ten minutes until you're needed on stage!"

The loud knock on my temporary preparation room door, followed by the whirlwind appearance of Heidi – my ever-eccentric and always slightly baffled looking manager – had me startled, and I knocked over a tub of powdery foundation that had been sitting precociously close to the edge of my dressing table. I quickly grabbed for it before it rolled onto the floor, and set it upright again, before sneezing as the fine cloud of glitter and cosmetics tickled my nose, along with the choking haze of Heidi's favourite Arabic perfume.

"Have you warmed up your voice?" She demanded noisily as she fussed over me like a mother-hen; smoothening down strands of my already straightened pillar-box red hair and picking flecks lint visible only through her eyes off my clothing.

"Yes." I lied, as I always did, trying not to flinch as she rubbed at the dark kohl lining my eye–lids with the pad of her little finger. Pre-concert voice training was the only preparation I disagreed about with Heidi – although silently, as it was better not to provoke her little tantrums. It only made me feel much more nervous than I already was, especially if happened to hit a note slightly wrong in the process.

"There you go." Heidi muttered half to herself as she took a step backwards and reviewed me critically. She gave a half smile of satisfaction before pulling me to my feet, and spinning me to face the long mirror framed against the back of the door. I had to say, I looked quite dramatic, and I did a double take before I recognised the face in the mirror as my own. My foundation was few shades lighter than my skin tone – which was pale anyway – and the thick black lines around my eyes stood out dangerously against the eerie white. My eyelids felt heavy with product, and I just managed to resist the urge to rub at the itching, knowing it was too late to re-do them if it all came off onto my hand. My lips were a dark-purply red, with enough lipstick applied to have them sticking together every time I closed them. Heidi had gone overboard with her idea of the 'goth' look once more, despite my protests that it didn't really matter what I looked like on stage – it was the songs that were important. Besides, I knew as well as everyone in the crowd that true Goth was not so much a style, but a way of thinking.

"Well, what do you say?" Heidi asked me quickly, nervous as my lack of a response to my reflection. I smiled and complemented her as always, silently cursing the heavy fabric of the dress I had been forced into. It was predominantly black, or course, and almost medieval in style. Completely impractical for the physical activity a two-hour concert would demand of me. I felt worryingly at the corset pulled tightly around my chest, and hoped it wouldn't restrict my voice in any way.

"Up we go!" Heidi exclaimed then, tapping at her watch frantically. She took my arm and pulled me through the dingy corridors of the backstage, careful not to crease my clothing. I noticed Ben already in position near to the stage entrance, his guitar slung over his shoulders, and a pick clutched tightly between his fingers. Catching sight of me he gave me an appreciative thumbs up before blowing me a kiss, and stepping out to face the crowd. A resounding cheer rose from the audience as they realised we were about to begin, and a rhythmic clap followed, keeping to the beat of Sven now hitting at his drums. Brian played the first chords of our intro, and the crowd went wilder still. A sharp nudge in my side from Heidi: It was my cue.

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, held the microphone firmly in my hands, and stepped out to sing.

* * *

"_Caress the one,_

_The never fading, rain in your heart,_

_The tears of snow white sorrow!_

_Caress the one, _

_The hiding Amaranth, in a land, _

_Far, far awaaayyy!" _

Sweat poured from every opportunity in my body as I gasped hungrily for breath, crying out the final lines of the chorus with as much passion as I could muster. Ben launched into the heavy and industrial closing chords to the song, his hands moving in a blur as he plucked the strings of his guitar with the expertise he was famous for. My body ached but I felt exhilarated, high– spiked with adrenaline and spurred on by the raving frenzy of the crowd. I threw my arms to the air and tilted my head back as the song pulled to a close, the roaring of the audience drowning out Tallulah on her bass. This was it – when I was happiest, when I felt the most alive.

I felt an arm snake around my waist as Ben pulled me into him, kissing my hair and cheeks reverently as if not giving a damn about the five-thousand strong pairs of eyes gawping at us from down below in the pit. Another arm – Tallulah's this time as she prepared for our closing bow. There would be no encore today – we were all much too exhausted, having performed everyday for the last week. We all dropped our designated instruments and waited for the cue, before bending together and thanking the audience for their co-operation. It didn't seem possible, but the cheering and whistling managed to grow louder even so, raising to a crecendo. It was still going long after we backed away, and the lights dimmed down into nothing

"My, my, my! You were all fantastic!" Heidi squeaked as she rushed up us all, pulling us into heavily perfumed and affectionate embraces one by one. One of the backstage helpers brought me a glass of water and I sank down into a nearby couch, breathing deeply, and pulling my hair away from the sweat on the back of my neck to pressing the cool glass against my skin.

"Congratulations, love. You were brilliant, as usual." Ben whispered tenderly as he collapsed down next to me, pulling my head onto his shoulder.

"You were too, Benny. The crowd went wild at every single one of your solo's."

"Nothing compared to the reactions _you _received. Especially for 'Missing.' You sung that like a goddess."

"You flatter me too much," I laughed, flicking his cheek lightly. He caught my hand and pulled it around his waist, before bending forwards and catching my lips in a clumsy but consuming kiss, sending my head spinning on an invisible axis. Me and Ben had been partners for two blissful years last month, and close friends for years before that. We had founded Origin together when we had still been in school, and had spent almost every passing moment in one another's company since then, discussing our dreams, new songs, and how we hoped to take the Metal genre by storm. People had always told us it was only a matter of time before we were seeing one another.

"I love you." He breathed huskily as he pulled away, before changing his mind and dipping back down for more. Catching the sly glances of the back-stage crew, I turned my head to the side, pursing my lips firmly together.

"Not in public." I whispered, and Ben looked put out, before his eyes gleamed suddenly and suggestively.

"Fine. Your dressing room."

"No, Ben. Anyone could walk in!"

"And?"

"It would be embarrassing!"

"Come on, Saksy. Live dangerously." He chided, taking my wrists and attempting to pull me up from the couch. I stood up abruptly and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, swinging my hips to avoid the attempted grab of his hand.

"Ben!" I cried, half laughingly as he tried again, this time catching my waist and crushing me against him lustfully. I struggled to pull my self away, my cheeks growing hot under the awkward glances of others. Ben only seemed to enjoy this more.

"You know how much I want you after concerts, Sasky. Don't make me wait, please?" He nuzzled his nose against the base of my neck and I felt my legs grow slightly unsteady under me, as the full force of my attraction to this man kicked in. Even so, I pulled at his hands firmly, shaking my head.

"Ben, we can't do _that_. _Here._ It's just… no, no."

"It would only take a few minutes." He protested, and I almost gave it at the stroke of his thumb over my lower back, before I grit my teeth and pushed away more firmly. This time, he let me go.

"No, Ben. That's hardly romantic. Wait until we get back to the buses, okay?"

"Fine." He agreed dejectedly, before grabbing my glass of discarded water and downing it in one go. A groupie came and took it from him as soon as he was done, not before offering me an impish and knowing wink over his shoulder. I felt my face flush in mortification, cursing Ben and his preferences for outward displays of 'attraction' – the poor man probably thought we were a pair of satyr's!

* * *

Later that night, and back in the caravan sight where we had holed up with the buses, I sat nursing a hot cup of tea between my hands, a fluffy new dressing gown thrown over my pyjamas for warmth and my hair damp and twisted in a turban. Sven and Ray – our man on the keyboard, and close friend of Sven- sat opposite me; equally as pink from the showers, their faces scrubbed clean of their usual terrifying stage makeup. I had managed to slip past Ben's advances, pulling the old 'headache' excuse – I couldn't exactly explain him I just wasn't in the mood… - but gathering the look on his face I could tell he didn't fall for that one any more. Nevertheless, he hadn't followed me into Sven and Ray's bus, choosing to sulk on one of the couches back in our own instead.

"We were good today, guys. Really good." Ray declared for the umpteenth time that night, slipping back into the Danish tongue we were all most comfortable with. Sven sighed and smacked his companion over the head, before grabbing his cup and sniffing it carefully.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Ray snatched his cup back clumsily, a splash of the light brown liquid sloshing over the rim and onto the table.

"Trying to see if you've spiked it, friend. You can't stop rambling the same thing."

"Only because we were good. I mean, really go-"

"Point taken, Ray."

I smiled tiredly at the bickering, my eyes heavy with exhaustion and the skin underneath them stinging with remnants of the strongest Make-up remover around. Scrubbing half an inch of Kohl from your eyes was a difficult task. I crossed my arms over the table and lay my head down to rest, letting my lids drift closed for a moment or two.

"Don't get too comfortable." Sven warned me, tapping the crown of my head. "You'll have to buckle up soon – we leave for Poland in half an hour or so."

"God." I groaned, pulling my self upright and blowing out my lips wearily. "How long of a drive is that?"

"About three to four hours. As long as we don't get stuck in any traffic or at border control."

"Why couldn't we have just waited to travel in the morning?" I complained, taking a gulp of my tea. Sven just shrugged.

"I don't know. I've never driven there from Germany before."

There was a moments' pause – only the slurping of our drinks and Ray's impatient tapping of his foot accompanying the silence.

"I'm bored." Ray then declared after another minute, hopping out of his seat and snatching the TV remote. He clicked it on and started flicking through the different channels, finally coming to rest on the only English News showing -None of us could speak much German. We watched idly as the pretty blonde reporter rushed through the headlines: Sports results, a plane crash with no fatalities, and the identification of the body of a suicide bomber from last month's attacks. It was all rather monotone, and I found myself drifting off once more, slumping down across the table and almost disturbing my tea. It was only when Sven gave me a small shake when I recovered, only to find both him and Ray in the midst of what looked like a debate.

"What do you make of this?" Sven asked me quickly, gesturing towards the TV screen with a wave of his arm. I squinted, clearing my vision, and saw a picture of what looked like some sort of Wadi, peppered with caves and carved doorways. My eyes flicked down to headline streaming across the bottom of the screen, and I felt a tiny jolt of surprise.

A NUMBER OF TOMBS SET FOR RELOCATION AFTER LAND BOUGHT BY TOURIST RELATED COMPANY

"Wait, what? How are they going to move tombs? What kind are they?" I asked quickly, shaking my head to clear the sleep educed haze from my brain.

"I don't know. And Valley of the Kings," Came Sven's curt reply, glaring as Ray grinned and shook his head slowly.

"But they're old. How are they going to move them without breaking up stuff?"

"Again, I don't know. But seriously, what do you think of it."

I thought for a moment, pursing my lips.

"I personally am inclined to think they should be left where they are, unless the companies have a good reason."

"They want a tourist centre near to the tombs. They claim it will bring in more money." Going by Sven's tone, I gathered he disapproved.

"By why don't they just build it somewhere else? Somewhere where it's not disturbing things."

"Apparently the land around is 'unstable.' And they also want the readymade tunnels and chambers for some underground exhibition. It saves them the costs of drilling out new ones. They're willing to sacrifice the tombs of a few lesser-known Kings and nobles in the process, apparently."

"It's actually not a huge deal." Ray interjected, and Sven turned on him in clear irritation.

"Of course it is! Who are we to go disturbing other people's graves!"

"They're from three thousand odd years ago. Nobody cares. They're old. The contents will be moved and put somewhere else, in a new tomb or something."

"What about the paintings?"

"What am I, psychic? I guess they'll probably cut the stone from the walls and take that too."

"And damage it in the process!" Sven complained, his brow furrowed in annoyance. I glanced between the two silently, not really wanting to get involved. I couldn't help but agree with Sven however, and still didn't understand why the centre had to be where it was going to be. There had to be some other advantage to the location we didn't know about.

"How did this get passed anyway," I asked after a moment. "I can't imagine the department of antiquities being too happy about it."

"I don't think they had much of a say." Sven replied bluntly, but indicating back up at the screen. "Blondie here seems to be hinting that money talked more than anyone else, if you know what I mean."

I nodded in understanding.

"Whose tombs are being affected, then?" I asked, and Sven shook his head.

"I don't know exactly – a list came up on the screen a few moments ago. It's come again, just wait."

I did as I was told, not really taking in the chatter of the anchorwoman as a collection of images flicked past the screen in sequence. Sven tapped his fingers in agitation next to be, and Ray tipped his head back, grinning silently up at the ceiling.

"I got lost in tomb there once, you know." I piped up randomly, my eyes still locked on the screen. Sven looked up in interest, and even Ray pricked up his ears. This was a story I hadn't told them before.

"Lost? How?"

"I was visiting Egypt with my family one summer," I explained, "and we were in the Valley of the Kings. I got angry at my parents for some stupid reason and ran off sulking. Apparently I went in some tomb that was closed off, and ending up banging my head hard enough to knock me out. I don't really remember much."

"How did you get out?" Ray asked idly, picking at a hole in his sock as he asked.

"The police found me the next day. I was in with the sarcophagus."

"Oh… creepy." Sven grimaced, patting my knee absently. "Was there a mummy?"

"No, I don't think so. I told you, I don't remember much. I had quite a bad cut on my head."

"The list is up!" Ray interrupted me suddenly, gesturing exaggeratedly at the screen. I turned my attention to it and studied the list of names, most of which were simply, 'Unidentified,' or, 'Thought to be …' Two of them were simply nobles, another a member of some unspecified royal family, but the other two were confirmed Pharaohs. Sipta and Akmonrah. I didn't know much about either, but for some reason the secondary did sound slightly familiar. I puzzled over that for a moment.

"I have _no_ idea who the fuck they were." Ray voiced my own thoughts exactly, and Sven nodded in agreement.

"The only few I know are Tutankhamen, Seti I, Akhenaten and one of the Ramses'. Whichever one was the Great one."

"Akmonrah rings a bell." I admitted, pursing my lips. "Don't know why. Maybe I saw a documentary or something."

"It said he wasn't well known." Sven pointed out again, and I shrugged. "They have his mummy though, but it was sent away literally a week ago or something on tour. Siptah is in London."

"Which emphasises my point that it's not a huge deal." Ray brought up again, scratching at his nose lazily. "They're not even using them."

"But they should be!" Sven argued adamantly, and I was mildly surprised. I hadn't known our talented drummer had ever shown an interest in Egypt. "They should be in their final resting places, as was intended to be. We should never have moved them. Any of them."

"But by moving them, we've been able to perform tests and work out things we didn't before." Ray countered, propping himself up on an elbow. "Think about the tests they just did recently. They proved Tutankhamun's mother wasn't who everyone thought she was. She was some random sister of his father."

"How do you know about that?" I asked, even more surprised at Ray's apparent knowledge regarding the people he had dismissed as 'old' a few minutes before. My question went ignored however, as the boy's bickering continued back and forth. I sighed, pressing my hands against my ears, trying to drain out the noise. The name of the Pharaoh was bothering me – I knew I had heard it before somewhere, but I couldn't for the life of me remember. As soon as I had gotten some sleep, I decided suddenly, I would get out my laptop and look this fellow up. Maybe that would help me solve my mystery.

* * *

**Fin. For this chapter anyway. Wrote it late at night so go easy on me, please. A bit of language here and there, and some implied adult themes, but not enough to make it unsuitable for teenagers, I don't think. Tell me if you think otherwise.**

**I don't own much from this chapter; not the Movie, not the Valley, not the News and not the Pharaoh's. Although I wish I owned Akhenaten – he is my all-time favourite Pharaoh. **

**Rage x**


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